


Mono No Aware

by pickaxetothebrain



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), because who doesn't like cherry blossoms, but in a calm way, neil being alone with his thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickaxetothebrain/pseuds/pickaxetothebrain
Summary: Neil likes to climb trees. No one else is really up there to see him, and he gets to reflect while being closer to nature.Based off of mono no aware, a Japanese term for impermanence. As there are 4 very distinct seasons in Japan, change is constant and it is taught to be gently mournful yet accepting of change.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Cherry Blossoms

Neil stared up at the pale pink blossoms above him. They were beautiful, even if they wouldn't last very long. They reminded the hippie of his own short bursts of happiness. Even if he'd feel guilty later on for his happiness, Neil embraced every momentary glowing feel in his chest and every time his face allowed him to smile. 

A petal danced off of its flower, then it tiptoed and spun into Neil's careful hand. Flower petals were delicate things. They were so beautiful, yet they withered within a day off the flower. It was sad to see such beauty being wasted, even if it was nature's plan all along. What was that saying? That change is the only constant thing in life?

The petal reminded the pessimistic hippie of his own good moments in that they never lasted very long. He did try to draw out the happines, but it never seemed to work. Any smile returned to a frown in minutes. The warm feeling in his chest turned cold again. He felt as if he was stuck in winter forever. 

The serenity of the tree, paired with the lullabies of song birds, calmed Neil to a state of gentle slumber. It was his first nap in a very long time.


	2. A Red Poppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Neil sleeps, he dreams of his life. The first stop? As far back as he could clearly recall.

Neil's thoughts turned to a subtle smoke as he drifted farther and farther into the warm arms of Mr. Sandman. There were no thoughts now. There were barely even feelings. The hippie had once again entered the serenity of his own subconscience, unable to be disturbed by loud punks or snooty poets. He was free now to dream as his mind wanted him to. However, this dream seemed to be rather different. It was a memory.

No longer able to tower over his housemates, the hippie found himself wearing somewhat more refined attire. He had last worn that outfit to church when he was about ten years old. He hated it, really. It was far too tight for Neil's comfort, almost like a corset. It gave him all the attention he thought he didn't deserve. That was horrifying. The last thing he'd ever want would be for a bunch of old people at church to hassle him and pinch his cheeks. 

Here was his escape - the field next to the church. It was up on a hill, pretty hard to get to. It was also all dead. The withered brown grass crunched against Neil's feet as he walked around. Hopelessness filled him as he walked along the field. Something inside him resonated with the literal death surrounding him. Something told him that...he understood. 

There was something in the distance. It looked like a red dot from this distance. Neil hesitantly scurried towards it, thinking about what it possibly could be. A ball, perhaps it was a ball. Or it could be a toy truck - Neil always wanted one. His parents said that toy trucks were for those planning to drive them, not for civilised children like himself. Perhaps the object was a large mushroom that he could stare at for a while. 

The object was a red poppy, standing alone amongst all of the decay around it. 

Neil bent down and sat on his knees next to the single flower. It was so beautiful in such valiance, to stand tall and proud amongst the aftermath of what looked to be the abandonment of all hope. Neil cupped a hand around the soft, waxy petals. They were a strange comfort to the young boy. He couldn't quite put words on it. 

"You're lonely, aren't you?" Neil asked the flower. "It's ok. I'm lonely too. I haven't got anybody right now."

Neil hesitantly touched the thin stem of the poppy. "It's strange...a really pretty skinny stem shouldn't hold up a big flower. But it does. Do you think there's anything out there for us? Like anything could change? Like, for better. I know the world's a heavy place."

The boy sighed. He had grown tired of talking to himself and laid in the scratchy grass patch. 

The church bell rung once, twice, eleven times. He heard the chattering of elderly folks as they made their ways out of the church. Neil's mum called for him with a large dose of disappointment in her voice. 

Neil stirred with discomfort before plunging deep into his next dream.


	3. A Roseless Bush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil finds that the poppy isn't so alone now, but it is still the only poppy. The poppy is a bit nutty like that. Slight tw for blood in this one!

As Neil jolted and stirred from the dream voice of his unsupportive mother, a calming breeze guided the sails of reverie swiftly back to the dead field. This time, it was no longer a season of birth. Rather, it was the season of pure white dread, cold and unforgiving, blowing down and assaulting the freezing soil. It was winter now in the hopeless field. Now Neil had even more reasons to feel awful, but he plowed on nonetheless. It felt as though he wasn't piloting his own footsteps. 

The forces that be in Dreamland compelled Neil onwards. He felt larger now, but still so small. The hippie gazed downwards upon his attire to find an outfit he last wore at the age of fifteen. His shoes, made to tie an outfit together and not for genuine use, fared horribly against the damp freeze of snow. His toes numbed in the slightest. Neil carried on still, though he preferred not to. His entire body felt heavy as he trudged and his heart sank lower and lower into his - what word did Vyv use, alimentary canal? - until he swore the dread was in his appendix. 

The poppy stood alone, strong, and dauntless against the tiny white soldiers of the frost. However, as Neil approached, a mass of green seemed to stand near the poppy he admired in the last dream. He was nearly dragged towards it, then identified it as a seemingly roseless rose bush. Thorns encompassed the entirety of the bush in what looked like needlessly overzealous self defence. Though, through spikes and leaves, a glimpse of vibrant orange went unconcealed. 

Upon discovering the small bit of orange, curiosity revealed itself as Neil's driving force. Neil gently reached out to the thorns as to move them aside. The bush fought back, digging its teeth into Neil's hand, making the hippie quickly draw it back. Neil stared at the blood coming from his hand. It was pink. 

Pink blood aside, Neil was now focused on seeing what this bush was defending with all its might. He did sympathise with this bush, as he had his own secrets kept from his parents. There was the dread he felt every day. There was also the emptiness in his chest. The list went on forever, really, and it'd take a full series to detail it further. 

Neil brushed aside the abrasive thorns without consideration of being hurt, revealing a single orange rose. The rose was rather impressively large, yet it seemed to have taken a massive amount of tolls. Missing and torn petals, some withered black and some withered brown. Some had been singed and some had been bitten upon. Clearly this flower had never been cared for by anyone but itself. Neil cupped the flower in reassurance, stroking the petals soothingly and subsequently painting its side with pink blood. 

"You're beautiful..." Neil whispered. "I never thought a rose could be so big, right, none of them in my Mum's garden are."

The hippie stroked a burnt petal as an overwhelming sense of empathy flooded his sunken heart. "Has someone like, hurt you? Is that why you've hidden this, you're like, scared you'll be hurt again if someone gets close again...?"

Of course, the rose did not respond, but Neil felt as it it was agreeing pensively.

"I understand, even if it's not right to pretend like this. I bet you don't like to fight. I bet you're tired from keeping your thorns really sharp."

The flower gave an energy of agreement once more, still melancholic. 

Neil paused to compose himself, then said, "You don't have to fight if you don't want to. It's okay, man. I'll be your friend, okay?"

The flower's silence no longer spoke volumes of emotion, the quiet turning static. Aside from the casual dreamy haze in the atmosphere, Neil felt his vision blurring. It seemed that he was about to faint. 

"Heavy...uh, maybe like, you did...hurt me pretty bad..."

And, just like that, Neil had stirred once more. 


	4. Summer Bachelor's Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proud poppy, a reserved rose. A bachelor's button, then who knows?

Neil felt the wrath of the summer sun against his body after the burning cold of winter's dream. Not a single cloud set sail on the celestial sea, not even the slightest white wisp. The shrill cries of lustful insects filled the hot atmosphere while the hippie looked around. There was no shade in sight. In fact, there was barely any sight, as the sun was raised to its highest power and beat upon Neil with its brightness. 

The hippie found himself in clothing he'd last worn at eighteen. It felt incredibly good to have stopped growing, though the tight clothes were still an issue. 

Doing his best to see, Neil once again found his floral friends. The poppy still stood unwavering even against the wrath of the sun. The orange rose had peeked out just a little from its cage of thorns. There was a new flower close to the rose's petals. It was a small bachelor's button. Despite such a diminuitive size, the blue flower radiated an intensely characteristic energy that Neil was amazed by. The hippie walked towards it in a friendly manner. Squatting to greet the new addition to the dead field, he said, "Hi there. You look very nice. Are you keeping the rose company?"

Neil thought it to be strange how closely the two flowers were growing. In fact, it seemed as if the rose's petals were only left uncovered because it had outstretched its thorns in defence of the bachelor's button. Well, perhaps even flowers got lonely. He always felt as if flora had emotions. 

"I see you're reaching out," said Neil to the rose. "I'm proud of you for that, man."

The hippie then returned his attention to the bachelor's button. It didn't seem to be in any distress. It gave off a calm and collected air. Something, however, gave it the vibes of false confidence. Neil said nothing to adress the overcompensation. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and dozed off to the next dream. Why did the warmest season have to be the least eventful?


End file.
